seventeenfortythree | River Run

He hardly ever needs her guidance, but she puts her hand over his now, trying to coax him closer.

"You're able to undress me just as quickly," she points out with a smile, and they both know that's true. He can have her undressed in a heartbeat and somehow with no clothing harmed in the process. It probably helps now that there's a zip on the back of her corset, but details.

"Aye, but never after proclaiming about how tired I am," he says, onto her, but apparently very much enjoying it. And he lets her guide him, his eyes on her as his fingers touch with only a bit of pleasure to start, intent on driving her mad.

"Did I say that? Hmm," she sounds, like she can't remember. Conveniently memory loss. The thoughtful sound soon turns to a soft huff off annoyance, though hardly intense. He's being a tease. She knows this. She's done the same.

"Are you tired?"

"I wasna the one delivering bairns and healing wounds all day," he says before pulling his hand away completely now and lathering both of them with soap. He shifts, so that he's behind her now, and gently washes her, his thumbs rubbing, pressing to muscles at the base of her skull that are tense.

But he does a bit of touching for pleasure as well, one thumb gliding over a nipple until it becomes a hard pebble.

Back to work, then. Claire grunts in very obvious disapproval, but then that too dissolves into one of those overly sexual moans. She doesn't really mean to, but he knows her body well, and where she carries the day's tension.

"Are you trying to get me to kill you tonight, Jamie?" She asks, tipping her head all the way back to try and look at him. That just so happens to lift both breasts out of the water.

He laughs and kisses the side of her neck as she tilts her head, but he can't resist cupping her breasts, one in each hand.

"What is it that will keep me from yer wrath?" he asks against her ear.

She knew he'd do that. His weakness, her breasts, and she grins at him while stretching back a bit more, an audible popping from her spine.

"More massaging might do the trick," she suggests, but where? She'll leave that up to him.

They both know he can't deny himself of her, even to have the simple pleasure of touching her. He considers teasing her more but at some point, it's only teasing himself.

Which is why there's no warning when his hand deftly moves under the water again, between her thighs and caressing to find every spot that makes her gasp his name. He does move slowly, not wanting to be rough with her before she's ready, but he's intent.

"I ken ye willna kill me now," he murmurs.

Claire laughs in surprise. Well, she did say massage, didn't she? It's an effort not to slip all the way down into the water, and she moans, looking back at him. If there was room in the damn tub she'd drag him in with her and have her wicked way with him, but all she can do is grasp at his arm.

"Probably not, no," she admits, hips pressing desperately to his fingers, "Not tonight, likely."

There's all the other nights for that.

Being able to surprise his wife, even now, is one the little pleasures Jamie enjoys. His mouth press to the shell of her ear as his thumb finds where he knows makes her back arch and lips part.

"Ye need my touch, Sassenach. My hand, finding every place on your body to make ye whimper and moan my name." His voice is low, teeth coming down very lightly on her earlobe, tugging.

She's entirely at his whim under his hand. For a woman so tired after a long day, she seems to have plenty of energy now, squirming in the tub.

"Get me out of this damn thing," she whispers, gripping his arm harder. "And get me on the bed."

He's too far away from her like this, with too much between them.

Not one to deny his wife anything, his hand lightly drags up to rest on her stomach, pausing to catch his own breath for a moment as he kisses her temple. When he stands, it's to take one of the blankets from their bed and lay it on the floor in front of the fire. Then, with all of the care in the world, he lifts her from the tub, unable to resist kissing her deeply for a moment before laying her down on the blanket.

So she doesn't get their bed soaking wet, obviously.

But he also doesn't give her time to protest, his head ducking between her thighs to finish what he started.

If this is what staying out all day and making her husband fret gets her, well, she might have to make it a habit. She'd say as much if she wasn't caught up moaning, fingers buried in Jamie's hair, and it's not long at all before he has her crying out his name and shivering from pleasure on the floor before the fire.

"Filthy," is all she can breathe out, smiling widely at him. She'd not change him for the world.

Edited 2018-11-25 18:19 (UTC)

His response is muffled as he leisurely takes his time to dote, enjoying the way her body slowly relaxes as her pleasure ebbs. His lips find her inner thigh, the crease where hip meets torso, then slowly up her body to kiss her breasts, her chest, then her neck.

"I hear no'a complaint from my wife," he says before nuzzling her cheek.

He knows how to keep getting those little noises of pleasure from her. Soon they turn into chuckles as he moves up her body, and then a happy sigh as she's able to wrap her arms around him.

"Why would I ever complain about you?"

Oh, she has her complaints now and then, but right now she couldn't think of one if her life depended on it. Her head tilts as she looks over at the tub.

"I was hardly in there before you distracted me. Why don't you get in, Jamie? I'll actually wash you."

He kisses her lips, then the tip of her nose as he stands and begins to undress himself.

"I ken I've been on many the receiving end of yer complaints," he says, though he says it fondly, with a smile. Once he's naked, it's clear that pleasuring his wife was quite enjoyable, but he lowers himself into the tub, pleased to find that it's still comfortably warm.

Right into the spider's web. Or maybe not so much--Claire imagines he can suspect that she has every intention of torturing him, too. Though watching him get into the water and making no attempt to hide how her eyes linger on certain parts of him, her impatience might be to his benefit.

Once she's at the side of the tub, she leans over to give him a kiss.

"You've earned yourself some relaxation."

"Have I?" he asks, kissing her again before he leans back, arms draping over either side of the tub. "An' how is it my wife will help me to relax, then?"

"Washing you, so you don't have to. You're a big man, after all. It can be time consuming," she practically purrs, reaching a hand out to not so much wash his chest as much as feel it.

His laugh is warm, his affection obvious as he reaches to cover his hand and take it lightly, kissing her wrist before placing it back down. "Then I must thank ye, for relieving me of such a chore," he teases.

Gently, she tugs her hand away with a click of her tongue. Preventing her work here, Jamie, though her hand travel over his body with no lack of appreciation. He's a fine man, and any of that baby fat that remained when they were younger has long melted away. But she's complimented him on that before, so there's no reason to do it again. It's obvious that she likes it, anyway.

Her hand travels lower, to his abdomen, and she hums thoughtfully.

"We might not have a large enough tub, but I do wonder if there's not a secluded bend in the river."

For reasons.

"A bend in the river?" he asks, even as his abdomen tightens in anticipation of a lower touch. "Fer, ah...bathing together, ye mean?" he asks, catching on. Very aware that 'bathing' is a very loose excuse between them.

It might be asking too much for his brain to continue working properly as her hand slides lower, between his legs.

"Yes. Bathing. Like this, but both of us, together," she says, perhaps a bit slowly.

Well, that does it for his last functioning brain cells and his head falls back now with a quiet thunk against the back of the tub. He makes some sort of sound that he understands what she means, but truly, if she requires more of him, she'll have to stop.

The only thing that manages to leave his mouth as she moves her hand is a ragged gasp of her name.

Giggling to herself, she decides to be kind and let Jamie truly relax. No teasing, just her hand working him beneath the water. She knows him as well as he knows her.

Naked still, there's no danger of clothing getting wet as she leans over the tub to kiss him as she strokes him, balancing her weight with her free hand on the edge of the tub. She's not the most coordinated woman, but in moments like these, she can be.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject